Sketching Frenzy in the Frost

Frosty morning. Pollarded willow branches piled high.
Sketchbook page.

From Artist in an Acre journal entry (this morning):

Bimbling around the bedroom - shower, drying hair, daydreaming. Throw back the curtains - sparkling frost! Already the weak pale light/warmth of the morning sun threatens to melt it quickly away. Thick jacket on and out I go.

In the studio I swish on a darkish background in black gesso with burnt umber, bronze yellow and a touch of white added. Opaque line work should work over the top to describe all the branches piled high on the bonfire.

Quick application of paint for dark background on pages.

Let out Somme, who snatches up his squashed basketball and heads off up the paddock at a rate of knots. I follow with sketchbook, collapsible stool and tin of Inktense sticks. Start straight into drawing with coloured linework mimicking the growth of branches and twigs. Can only use approximate colours and modify or try for 'frost' by utilizing the white. Dash in a few dark marks to hint at the depths of the pile. Side of green stick to suggest distant hedge, trees, then work heavily with white into this and over blue for sky - attempting to silhouette some branches against the sky. Using lighter colour try and cut in around base and edges of pile.

Close up detail of drawing.

Quickly assess - few more darks, think I can't say any more with this one.

Somme moves before I can note what's happening with hind legs...

Opposite page - already dark base painted on. Frost rapidly melting. Somme is stretched in the grass nearby - in white Inktense stick I attempt to describe his shape - block in negative space around. He moves. Settles again, new position. Flip over page. Dark stick on white of paper. Few lines - fairly high viewpoint as look across and down to him. He moves.

Bit better...

Suddenly acutely aware of cold. Silly, forgot to put gloves on! Pack away quickly. Somme energised by my movements - he snuffles at the sketchbook and tin on the seat of the stool. Thin tin flips off - lid flys off and - of course - tin lands open, upside down! Most sticks remain snuggled in the foam 'holder' of tin, a few fall out. Scrabble in frosted grass, now thawing, getting damp. Find all but one quarter of pale ochre. Fingers painful with cold by now. Calling the dog I pop to studio, leave equipment just inside the door. Somme put away in his run, snaffles the treats offered greedily. Up to the house to the warmth of the kitchen and ready for a cup of tea.

11 a.m. - all the frost has gone.

Somme, stool, sketchbook, Inktense sticks.
Frost almost melted... time to go in and warm up!